The Temporal Comedy: The Zeitgeist Awakens
by Angelique Sauvegarde
Summary: A young girl has attracted the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants' attention.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Zeitgeist Awakens**_

_Dear Professor Xavier:_

_I write to you today out of desperate need for your expertise on raising children who, shall we say, possess extraordinary genetic traits. My wife Adimu has just given birth to our fourth child, a daughter. She is a perfectly healthy child, and appears normal. But blood work confirmed the abnormal amniocentesis my wife had. We have treated people before with unusual genetic traits, but our Kassandra carries a mutation of a like we've never seen before. We have no idea how or even if it will manifest itself. But we do know this: we love our child regardless, and wish to give her all the benefits of a happy and healthy childhood. My wife has ordered all Kassandra's medical records, as well as all of her own records from her pregnancy, sealed, sharing all the pertinent information only with you. She said that while we have no problem welcoming a mutant in our family, the rest of the world just is not ready. Any and all advice from you would be greatly appreciated._

_Regards,_

_Fridrich Altheim, President_

_St. Luke's Relief Medical Foundation_

Keetmanshoop, Southwest Africa 

_Dear Dr. and Mr. Altheim,_

_First may I congratulate you on the birth of your daughter, and also for your unconditional willingness to love and care for her. If only all the children at my school had parents such as you._

_Sealing the medical records as well as your lips is wise, for her safety. Yes, as if the world weren't hostile enough in general to people who simply do not fit the norm, it fears people who, as you said, "possess extraordinary genetic traits." (By the way, I do like how you referred to them that way. It reflects a refreshingly positive attitude. My first suggestion would be to not be afraid to use the word mutant in an equally positive context. But I digress.)_

_I must admit that, to my unending sadness, not all their fears are ill founded. Keeping her mutation a secret will protect her not only from the world in general, but from certain fellow mutants who might be interested in using her for their agenda. If there are any other ways to protect her, that will depend on if and how her traits manifest. Expect that to start in adolescence. I expect, based on what you've shared with me, that whatever traits manifest will indeed be quite unusual. Let me know right away of anything that happens, and I should be better able to help. _

_Also, before her traits manifest, it may help to prepare. Most of the children at my school were brought up believing that they weren't mutants and that mutants were to be feared. Naturally, the discovery of the truth proved quite traumatic for them. The fact that you know ahead of time can help make the discovery of her abilities a bit less shocking. As soon as she is old enough to understand the necessity of keeping her mutation secret, let her know and her siblings know. Emphasize the importance of keeping quiet. Don't stress the mutation itself. Encourage her to regard all people, regardless of mutation or lack thereof, as equal. Do keep in touch. And you are welcome to come visit me anytime. Meeting people such as you is a pleasure I do not experience often enough._

_Best wishes,_

_Professor Charles Xavier_

And so began a very long friendship between the Altheim family, Professor Xavier, and the few other people they gradually let into their confidence, Dr. Jean Grey, Dr. Hank McCoy, and Father Akwenye, the Altheims' parish priest, known for his toughness tempered by an eerie cognizance of other people's thoughts.

Kassandra grew into a happy and well-adjusted teenager with a shock of wild brown curls, smooth mocha skin, wide eyes the color of black coffee, and the slender build of an avid athlete. She seemed to have everything. Good looks, plenty of money from her grandfather's mining interests, and a delightful tendency to not care about the wealth and looks. Indeed, possibly due to having carried her secret around for years now, and also possibly due to growing up an ethnic, economic, and religious minority, she did not like drawing attention to herself. So she cultivated flair for drama and a bit of mischief to hide her secrets. Or she would divert attention to the significant accomplishments of her parents or siblings. Her father, the philanthropist. Her mother, the doctor. Her sister, Lucy, and brothers Michael and Vincent, who, respectively, grew up to work at Kalahari Gemsbok National Park, to become a doctor, and to give up professional soccer stardom for the religious life and a teaching career.

Kassandra herself tried her hand at a variety of activities as most girls do, but distance running, music, dance, and martial arts captured her interests more than anything else. She excelled at traditional stick fighting as well as fencing. She and her family also visited Xavier's school whenever possible and made lots of friends there. In fact, it was under the tutelage of her closest friend, Kurt Wagner, that she honed her fencing skills. But besides the Professor, Dr. Grey, and Dr. McCoy, none of her friends there knew she was a mutant until….

"Hallo, Vater_," _said Kassandra as she sat in the confessional. _"It's been a month since my last confession, and I think I have a pretty big sin to confess."_

"Kassandra," Father Akwenye reassured, _"You know that save for blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, there is no sin too big for God's forgiveness."_

"Ja, Vater," Kassandra replied. _"This has been going on for a few years now. I didn't notice at first, then I thought it was coincidence, that I could make all these guesses and be correct, but now it seems I can do this at will. I can see what people have done in their past without them telling me, and I can see the future as it takes shape. Is that a sin?"_

"_Well,"_ Father Akwenye mused. _"That depends. Have you used any occult methods to do this?"_

"Nein. _No spirits, no trances, nothing of the sort. But I do feel sort of sick and weak after I go back into normal time."_

"_Well then," _Father Akwenye concluded, _"this doesn't sound like a sin, but the way your unique condition is manifesting itself. In this case, you might not need Reconciliation, but a talk with your mother." _

Charles wheeled himself into Cerebro. A phone call from the Altheims had woken him early that morning. Kassandra's name didn't need mentioning. "I'd discovered that the blackouts I'd told you about have no heretofore known medical cause," said Dr. Altheim. "Not even the metabolic disturbances I've noticed. And we just got out of a conference with Father Akwenye. He said she was very worried about her future. We all agree this is it."

So with Cerebro's help, Charles tried to zero in on Kassandra. It was like trying to read Nightcrawler in the middle of a teleport. Impossible. She seemed to flit everywhere, sometimes popping up in two places at once, sometimes blinking out of existence. At last, he caught a direct thought that nearly exploded in his head- "_We need Charles, NOW!" _Then nothing.

"_A Professor Xavier and Jean Grey are here to see your daughter, Dr. Altheim," _said the nurse, in German. Doctor Altheim did not think that too unusual. She often got idealistic foreign relief workers who were so smitten with working in Africa that they'd forget to learn the language of the people they'd serve. Less than a third of Namibia spoke German. Most of them spoke Afrikaans or one of the many indigenous Khoisan dialects. And this was the girl's first day here. Dr. Altheim made a mental note to herself to sign this girl up for language instruction once things settled down.

"Danke. Come in," said Dr. Altheim. "_Alone_, bitte?" she said to the nurse. Of course the nurse knew this was a particularly sensitive case. Dr. Adimu Altheim was one of the best and most unusual medical minds of the country, with a spectacular rags-to-riches-to rags background. She had escaped apartheid in South Africa, then married a diamond heir of German extraction, then studied medicine, and, with her husband, eschewed a life of luxury to run a free hospital for the poor of Keetmanshoop. And Dr. Altheim was now coming toward the middle of the worst 24 hours of her life. Her husband had died mysteriously. Then her youngest daughter collapsed in an apparent coma even she couldn't explain. Ah, yes, the nurse had heard whispers around the clinic, that the child had been in frequently over the past couple years, as a patient. No one was allowed to even speculate as to why. Her blue eyes flashed golden for a moment. Hers was not just innocent curiosity. And though she did not know Afrikaans, she knew English quite well. Things would get worse for Dr. Altheim if things went according to plan.

"I am glad you could finally come here and meet Father Akwenye," said Dr. Altheim, "though I wish the circumstances were better."

"A bittersweet pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless," said the Professor. "His help has meant a lot. And our deepest condolences, Adimu. We were already on the way when Ororo gave us the message."

Jean handed Dr. Altheim a vase of roses. "Kassandra's been so lucky to have parents such as you and Fridrich. All of us took it hard when we heard. Where are Lucy, Michael, and Vincent? And anything new about Kassi?"

Dr. Altheim wiped away the tears welling in her dark eyes and placed the flowers where she hoped her daughter's staring eyes might see them. "The others are going to their grandparents to help prepare for Fridrich's funeral. As for Kassi, I don't know much more now than when I called you yesterday. I just confirmed my suspicions about there being no known medical cause. The only remaining guess I have is that this is connected to her-"

"Shh." The Professor then attempted to probe Kassandra's mind. And discovered he couldn't.

Yesterday was much longer ago according to Kassandra Altheim. Yesterday she vowed, upon hearing her father had died, to do something about it. Everything around her at that precise moment stopped. The kitchen table, the walls of the house, her mother, brothers, and sister, the police officers, the sun, the sand, the whole universe faded and shrank. And she could now see the timelines by the millions- a monstrous web they formed. But by focusing on her father, she found his line, followed it to where a few others tangled with and cut it off (how she hated the ends of timelines), and then traced it back to determine, and if possible, halt that chain of events. While learning the past like this was a familiar habit, she'd never before tried to actually change it. She'd never even tried to place herself into any point in time besides the point at which she left it. Not the past. And she wouldn't even try going into the yet undefined lines of the future. But these desperate times called for drastic measures. And they took a while.

She stepped back into the moment just as her father was about to make his last fateful decision. Ah, that's right. Nobody was home at the time. Not even herself. Lucy and Michael were helping at the clinic. Vincent was at the school. And she and mother were in conference with Father Akwenye. She called her father's cellular phone. No signal. No matter. Though he was still miles out, she was a marathoner. And with the normal flow of time not her concern; she could get there instantly. She stepped out of time, and then ran.

"Papa!" she screamed, turning back, stepping into that time, and now running alongside the car.

"Kassandra," her father slowed down and said through the window, "_What's going on? Why are you here?"_

"_No time_, Papa," Kassi cried. "_You must turn at the next intersection, or you will be killed!"_

"_And have us get lost? You worry too much, Kassandra, but I will be careful."_

"Nein, Papi!"

Not careful enough. It became obvious. Timelines were like clay. The future and present were soft and pliable. The past was sharp and hard. She could see it, but however she tried, she could not change it. She might as well have just tried to change a movie by rewinding the video. Not only had she failed to save her father, she had been discovered. One of the passengers was looking very hard at her.

Kassandra burst back into normal time at the very moment she left it, just after the police informed the family that Fridrich died on the scene of a fiery car crash. She fought off the encroaching blackness long enough to gasp, "Mama! _It was a plot. We need Charles, NOW!"_

Fridrich pressed on as he had planned, wondering only if Kassandra's behavior was anything to warn the Professor about, then deciding that it was when he saw a car ahead with the hood up. The van suddenly veered toward that car, tires screaming in protest as Fridrich applied the brakes and steered hard to avoid the inevitable collision.

Metal twisted. Glass shattered. Screams erupted. And smoke filled the van.

"Everyone out! Alle Mann raus hier!" Fridrich shouted in every applicable language. All the volunteers filed out, choking on the smoke from the spectacular inferno that quickly engulfed the van. But Fridrich seemed to have a problem unbuckling his seat belt.

Pyro was enjoying his masterpiece so much he almost didn't notice that someone failed to escape. But he saw that ruthlessness thinly veiled by a look noble distaste on Magneto's face. He always affected that look when using his power to lethal effect. Then he saw through the smoke that poured through the shattered windshield Fridrich, gasping, choking, burning, losing the struggle to get out. The flames died down.

"What are you doing?" he shrieked.

"I was keeping his seatbelt buckled until your handiwork finished the job, of course," said Magneto, matter-of-factly. "My dear boy, sometimes sacrificing friends is necessary for the greater good of…"

"SHUT UP!" Pyro nearly decided to let some of his "handiwork" consume that bombastic, manipulative windbag, when a nurse interrupted. She appeared diligent, composed, and concerned about everyone now stranded on the roadside. It was now their turn for her attention.

"Geht es Ihnen gut? Ist alles in Ordnung?" She shouted as she ran to them. "Nice, quick work, boys," she whispered in English, her blue eyes flashing golden. "The Altheims have been hiding a mutant, and the father's death has finally drawn her out. It's Kassandra. She used foresight or something like it to warn her father. And we can find her. She was just here. She can't be far."

"Careful, Mystique. Xavier has had his eye on her family for years," warned Magneto. "Unless our naïve young friend is correct that it's nothing more than the sort of innocent friendship Charles likes to think is possible with humans, she'll turn out to be a powerful weapon in our arsenal. Dangerously powerful.

"We will have to split up and search. Report all your findings to me. Sabretooth, Pyro, and I will search around here, her home, school, and other possible whereabouts. And have a talk with Pyro about his interfering conscience. Mystique, continue scouting the relief agency and the hospital. Report to me all you can discover. And take whatever action necessary. Dr. Altheim may make a valuable hostage if we can't get Kassandra herself.

"Ah, but here comes your ride at last, Mystique," Magneto said, as lights flashed and a cacophony of voices asked and sought to explain what just happened.

"Das ist gut," said Mystique, now resuming her role as helpful Bavarian nurse. "Und was ist mit seinem Auto? Können Sie heimfahren?"

As if in terse response, Sabretooth, resentful over Pyro and Magneto getting to have all of the day's fun, slammed the hood, crammed his bulk into the driver's seat, and started the car. "Get in," he growled.

Time started to catch up with Kassandra. "Give it another try, Onkel Charles," she said softly as she awakened. And this time their minds could meet. Charles saw what she had and wanted to know more about- the timelines that cut off her father's. He recognized the events they contained. And the people who lived and created those lines. Kassandra in turn knew she had to see a couple old friends who were hiding just outside the hospital. Instantly.

Wolverine and Nightcrawler crouched in the shadows awaiting their next move. Wolverine sniffed. "Mystique's here."

"Ja, right outside my room," Kassandra interjected.

"Kassi? Wie-?" Nightcrawler nearly broke his standing high jump record.

"We have no time!" Kassandra interrupted. "Mystique will call for Magneto and the others. Both of you stop her now!" They had never seen Kassandra so agitated before. They went.

So, the Little Elf is a mutant, after all. Wolverine had suspected it, but up until now, he'd always seen her goofing around and roughhousing with the other mutant kids or sparring with Nightcrawler. Now he could definitely tell it wasn't just the smell of her friends hanging over her. And that nickname was appropriate, no more just because she seemed to be Nightcrawler's smaller and prettier shadow. Now she could add out-elfing the Elf, without even trying, to her list of credentials. Wolverine would decide later if he'd let Nightcrawler live that one down.

Back inside the hospital, Mystique was growing impatient. Not a word had been said aloud since the pleasantries ended. The only new information she could glean was speculative. The girl was a mutant. That much was clear. It seemed that, though she had some kind of weakness, she was powerful enough to warrant the highly secretive and protective manner in which she was treated. Perhaps her abilities surpassed those of Destiny or even the Scarlet Witch. But she couldn't tell. "And it's likely they all know I'm here, anyway, trying to eavesdrop," Mystique thought to herself. That tore it. They did know. She would call Eric now. But wasn't she just holding her phone?

BAMF! Two feet planted themselves into her solar plexus. She flew into the grip of hairy, muscular arms, which pinioned hers. SNIKT! Three adamantium-plated blades poised at her throat. Tires squealed at the entrance and a horn blared. Jean hustled the Professor and Dr. Altheim out the door.

"Don't you know?" Wolverine threw her aside and ran out the door. "Good nurses don't kidnap their patients!"

"Es tut mir leid, 'Mutter,'" Nightcrawler hissed before teleporting out.

"Ja, ganz bestimmt," Mystique replied icily. The police had been called. The Professor, that telekinetic twit, the doctor, and the rest, were all out the door. The volunteer at the desk wouldn't let her use the office phone. And she had to get Eric, now! She bolted out the door, deciding once and for all that she was through with the nurse disguise.

"Elf here looked like he'd seen a ghost when the Little Elf just popped up next to him," laughed Wolverine. Then he addressed Kassandra, "And how did you snag Mystique's phone, anyway?"

"I knew she'd try that first to call the others, so before I left the building, I just ran out right in front of her and snatched her phone right from her hand!" Kassandra giggled. "I figured it would come in handy."

Kassandra had, immediately after urging Nightcrawler and Wolverine to stop Mystique, stepped out of time, flit instantly into her mother's SUV, stepped back in, drove to the entrance, and honked. When Jean, the Professor, and Dr. Altheim got there, Kassandra scrambled out of the driver's seat and slumped over, out cold. Now Dr. Altheim was driving. Jean navigated from the passenger seat. And Kassandra, awake again, sat in back with Charles, Nightcrawler, and Wolverine, regaling them with her tale, and explaining what she could about her powers, her strengths and weaknesses. "It may appear that I can teleport, read minds, or predict the future. But I don't," she said. "I can step out of time. I can see people's timelines and learn about them that way. I can't change the past. And I can't predict the future, but I can guess pretty accurately based on how I see the timelines shaping up. By the way," she added, "I may not be completely bound to time, but I still am subject to biology. Is there any food in here? I hadn't eaten since the first time I was in yesterday."

Just then, the phone interrupted their laughter. Kassandra answered cautiously, "Yes?"

"Mystique? Magneto, Sabretooth, and I will meet you at the hospital. We've got the priest."

Kassandra hung up immediately. She had lost touch with Pyro when he left Xavier's school. And she missed him. Indeed, though he only suspected the truth, the brooding, romantic John Allerdyce could stir the embers of her heart as easily as if it were any other fire. But now that she knew exactly what he'd gotten himself into, the effect of hearing his voice was quite the opposite. She felt sick. Nightcrawler squeezed her shoulder. He also knew the pain of betrayal.

Kassandra choked back her tears. "I didn't guess that would happen. That was John. We have to go back."

"Pyro, you scout the school grounds and see what you can find," said Magneto. "I'm going to Confession." Pyro didn't think he had any use for religion, but he began to think maybe there was something to unloading one's guilt before some deity's representative. Particularly when his eye caught a stone crucifix with an engraving at the bottom.

"Can I help you with anything?" said a woman's voice in heavily accented English.

Pyro jumped, then turned to see that a nun, who had been patrolling the playground keeping an eye on the children, was addressing him. "Oh, yeah," he stammered. "I don't know much Afrikaans. I was wondering what it says."

"'Greater love has no man,'" the nun said, cherishing the words, "'than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.' So what brings you here anyway?"

"Oh, I was here to pay a surprise visit to an old friend," said Pyro, truthfully enough, "Kassi Altheim."

"Well, you won't find her at school," she replied, slightly upset. "Haven't you heard? Her father died yesterday, and it seems the shock of this good man's death nearly killed her, too! Go to the hospital now, and…" Here tears came to her eyes, "tell her and the Doctor that Sister Ursula sends her love." Pyro could only nod before he turned and ran.

He remembered all too clearly the conversation in which he'd first mentioned the Altheims. Magneto had been griping yet again about how all mutantkind would be better off if they never had to be bothered with the fear mongering, hate spewing, masses of inferiority known as humanity.

"Now wait a second," Pyro interrupted, "It can't be that simple. I mean, look at Sabretooth. All brawn, no brains. And then there's the whole Altheim family. They've got everything to like in people even without any X factor mutations. They're smart, kind, and we always had fun when they visited the school. Granted, I agree that most humanity needs to make way for us, but it's not fair to brand them all inferior just because of genetics."

"There is," mused Magneto, "a point that deserves careful consideration. Humans tend not to befriend us mutants at all, unless they can use us in some way, or unless they themselves are mutants in hiding. How do you know they aren't mutants?"

"They told me. Actually I asked." Pyro relayed that whole conversation he had with the Altheims the day he first met them.

"Why are you so nice to us?" he asked. "Are you mutants, too?"

They all replied no, except Kassi, who said, "Do I have to be? I can wiggle my ears. Does that count?"

"Kassi would never lie to me," Pyro explained, "But she liked to joke around, so I took that as a no."

"Hmm," Magneto scowled in thought. "Perhaps you should tell me more about these Altheims. If indeed your friend is a mutant, it may be in her best interest for us to learn more about her and help her get the most of her power. And if all is as you think, the possibility that mutantkind may have true friends among humanity deserves investigation."

Pyro liked the Altheims. He even considered dating Kassi. He wished he had never opened his big mouth. But he couldn't change that now.

Eric Magnus Lehnsherr was a very devout man. He had faith in God, when God agreed with his terms. He'd sacrifice nearly anything and anyone for his beliefs. And he had plenty of use for religion. He'd use any religion, from atheism to Zoroastrianism, to further his agenda. Today, a religion starting with C was convenient. He strolled with his head held high into St. Martin's, into the confessional. He removed his helmet, for the appearance of respect, if not respect itself, was very important to him.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Eric droned, "It has been far too long since my last confession…"

"Evidently," Father Akwenye interjected, with a smile. "These days, a simple 'hello' does nicely." The smile faded. "But you are here to add to, rather than confess, your sins. In that case, I will not help you."

"Oh, but I don't think you have a choice," grinned Magneto. He now had his bargaining chip- a friend of the family, with a convenient metal plate in his skull.

Magneto strode out of the church followed by his tormented hostage, and nearly tripped Pyro on his way out. "Hold on, my young friend," Magneto called out. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

Pyro stopped, and looked. The priest's face contorted in another nauseating wave of agony, but he didn't cry out. Magneto had that same look on his face Pyro recognized from yesterday, the nobly but not completely reluctant acceptance that one must sometimes make a mess to get things done. He was disgusted. And defeated. "To the hospital," he sighed.

"Nice work, my dear boy," said Magneto. "Now call Sabretooth and Mystique and tell them to meet us there."

As the SUV approached the hospital, Wolverine and Kassandra both sensed trouble on the way.

"Mama," said Kassandra, faintly. "Stop the car. Everyone get out and run, now."

"Sabretooth," growled Wolverine, as the SUV squealed to a stop. No sooner had he said that than the hood crumpled and the windshield shattered. Sabretooth, rejoicing that at last he got to have some fun after sniffing around the Altheim home finding nothing, and driving Magneto and that bratty firebug around, dove straight for Kassandra. Instead he got Wolverine's claws buried in his chest. Nightcrawler grabbed the professor and teleported them both out. Jean and Dr. Altheim, taking no time to wonder why their doors were already open and their seat belts detached, spilled out and took off running. Kassandra had disappeared.

After an abbreviated struggle, which would have killed him and Sabretooth both had they not been self-healers, Wolverine rumbled, "It's been fun, bub, but I know you didn't come to play." At that, he withdrew his claws and leaped out.

Nightcrawler and the Professor caught up with Kassandra, unconscious and lying against a police car.

Nightcrawler vanished into the shadows and then gently felt for Kassandra's pulse. Though very slow, it was speeding up. Kassandra and Dr. Altheim had only just explained what that meant.

"She's coming around, Professor."

"I'll buy some time," said the Professor. Magneto had his helmet on, the helmet specifically designed to block out other people's probing minds. He did not know, as the Professor did, that Mystique was hiding out among the lines of police officers, and he only suspected rather than knew the level and the potential violence of Pyro's disillusionment.

Thankfully, it didn't take controlling Pyro's mind to get him to act. Professor Xavier loathed having to do that. It was rage that brought John Allerdyce into the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. A reminder that the very same rage now simmered against them was quite easy. And that's all it took.

"It really is quite simple. I do not want money. I am not here to make some political statement, and I really do not wish to kill anyone. All I want," Magneto demanded, "is for you to surrender Kassandra Altheim in exchange for the priest's life, and we will trouble you no further."

"Yeah, right," muttered Pyro sarcastically, fully intending to blast that pompous liar into oblivion. All the cars were parked. There was no fire for him to use there. But he had his lighter. Magneto then turned his gaze to him. His lighter was crushed the second he tried to light it.

"Charles, I know you're here!" Magneto yelled.

"Und Ich auch!" Nightcrawler stepped out of the shadows. "You speak of the lady as if she were the Botswana border. Really, a gentleman would know she is nobody's to surrender…."

"…But mine to protect!" roared Dr. Altheim as she and Jean burst on the scene, followed up by Wolverine, who, of course, was stopped in his tracks by Magneto. Sabretooth, in hot pursuit, stopped and sulked when he saw all the guns around him. He had been shot before. He had little to fear from being shot, but it was annoying.

"So you see," seethed Father Akwenye through his pain, "I know you only have in mind exploiting Kassi, like you have that boy. In which case, my decision is clear. You'll have to kill me first."

"And me, bub," Wolverine growled.

"Und mich," Nightcrawler chimed in.

"And me," said Jean and Dr. Altheim.

"And me, old friend," said Charles.

"Which begs this question," said Fr. Akwenye. "Exactly how many of your fellow mutants…" Here most of the people gaped, as they hadn't known he was himself a mutant. "I mean, how many of us, fellow mutants or otherwise," he continued, "will you kill, kidnap, or exploit before you realize your battle is self-defeating?"

At this, Magneto laughed. "You actually believe I have some scruple against killing you, rather than a simple preference?" Then, raising his hands as he had done before, he took the guns trained on him into his magnetic grip and aimed them at the police officers. "I submit to you this question," Magneto added, his patience at an end. "How many other people will you allow to die before you realize that I have the upper hand?"

Mystique, staring down the barrel of one such gun, metamorphosed from police officer back into her naturally sleek, blue form and stepped out of formation. She always knew Eric might sacrifice even her for his pet cause. In this case, it was not deliberate. Some other time, it could be. She wasn't about to let it happen. Not now, not ever. But as long as she had her own reasons for getting Kassandra, she'd play along with Magneto.

"No one will die, Eric Lehnsherr!" Kassandra stepped up to him. "If anyone deserves to die, it's you and your fascists!"

"Really?" Magneto smiled. "Is this another one of your predictions?"

"Maybe," retorted Kassandra. She considered the possibilities. Stopping the relative flow of time might not help her in combat, but slowing it down would. A pair of nightsticks appeared in her hands, wielded like traditional Zulu fighting sticks. Now that it came down to it, this would not be in any way like the rigorous but friendly sparring she enjoyed with Nightcrawler. For the first time ever, she'd have to really fight, for her future, and for people's very lives, against the people who killed her father. She hated the idea, but she'd do what she must. Magneto's smile deepened. So far, the girl played right into his hands.

"Mystique, Sabretooth," he ordered, "take her."

At this, Kassandra transformed into a ghostlike whirlwind. And though the forms of her opponents appeared just as faded to her as she was a transparent blur to them, they were solid enough to her clubs and feet. Mystique, with all her speed, agility, and quick thinking, went down in less than one second. She was sluggishness incarnate compared to Kassandra. Sabretooth's teeth, claws, and brute strength were useless. Before he could even lay a hand on the girl, she'd transformed him into a bleeding, unconscious heap that even his accelerated healing would need time to restore. It occurred to Kassandra with a sickening jolt that Wolverine did not have a corner on mutant berserker rage. Had she wanted, she could have killed them all before they'd ever have a chance to defend themselves. But she had to end this fight, and surrender was not an option.

Magneto was now shocked. Less than five seconds into the battle, and the avenging spirit was now upon him. Could nothing stop this rampaging wraith? He extended his magnetic control to the steel bolts and bindings in the nightsticks, hoping to halt the barrage of blows he anticipated.

And that was just what she counted on. Time for a little trick Nightcrawler showed her. Using the now immobilized nightsticks for leverage, she vaulted up and smashed her feet into Magneto's jaw. Awe and terror registered on his face. His helmet flew off his head. The guns, helmet, and bloodied nightsticks clattered to the ground. Wolverine and Father Akwenye were released. Magneto thudded against a wall, and slid to the ground, unconscious. Kassi twisted, landed, and whirled to face Pyro. She stepped back into time, and normal speed resumed. And though her normal appearance was restored, Kassandra, the sweet girl that Pyro once considered asking out, appeared to him as a woman transformed- fists up, eyes wild, and capabilities unfathomable. "Think about what just happened here, John, and I might forgive you. And," she added, tossing him a cell phone, "Mystique might want this back."

Then, as a petrified Pyro swore to himself, Nightcrawler dashed up and caught Kassandra's inert body.

Escaping the prison was, as usual, ridiculously easy even with the bruises and general achiness from their humiliating defeat. Magneto sprung the locks. Mystique disguised herself as a high-ranking police officer, said that Magneto, Pyro, and Sabretooth were wanted elsewhere on other charges (which was, of course, true), and off they went.

"I'm afraid there's more to this girl than precognition," said Magneto, as Mystique drove them away. "Either she has multiple powers, like foresight, telepathy, speed or teleportation, and maybe telekinesis, or she's got some other power that we just don't understand. At any rate, we need a new modus operandi.

"Are you aware of any weaknesses?" Magneto asked. "Pyro, my boy, why was she in the hospital?"

All Pyro would say was, "I heard it was shock from her father's death."

"Hmph," scoffed Mystique, "Xavier and the rest acted as if using her power put her there."

Pyro sulked silently, refusing to admit that was probably correct.

The Blackbird cruised over the Atlantic, with nothing but good weather ahead. Jean set the autopilot and looked back on everyone else.

"How's our patient doing?" she asked.

"Hungry!" Kassandra shouted. She then resumed devouring all the food and drink offered her and talking with Nightcrawler, softly and exclusively in German, the way these friends always shared a private conversation.

"She's hungry, dehydrated, and exhausted," Dr. Altheim clarified, "Just as if she'd gone for a couple of very trying days without food, water, or sleep. Which, of course, is precisely what she did in one day." Dr. Altheim groaned in mock frustration. "I don't think I'll ever fully understand it." She added, all seriousness restored, "But I do understand this. We've seen what slipping in and out of time can do to her. It could possibly even kill her."

"However," Charles reassured, "I do have a couple of ideas. If Logan is willing to help, we might be able to do something about it."

"Hey, what do you mean, 'if'?" Wolverine demanded.

"So," said Kurt to Kassandra, "_do you still like John?"_

Kassandra chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then said, "_I care about him, but…"_

"_You don't want to go out with him?_" Kurt asked, feigning shock. _"What's up?"_

"Bist du verrückt?"Kassandra laughed. Then she took his hand. "_I have you for my friend. _Mein Lieblingsfreund. _That's much better than any infatuation. I am so lucky." _With that, she yawned, "_And so tired. _Night, all!Gute Nacht, Kurt." Then she dropped off into her first regular sleep, full of life and dreams, as opposed to her deathlike hibernation, since that long ago yesterday.

Kurt gently pulled a blanket up under her chin and kissed her forehead. "Schlaf gut, mein' Zeitgeist."

Back in Keetmanshoop, Fridrich Altheim was buried in the Altheim family plot with the simple but full and sincere honors of the people he served. Dr. Altheim had just returned from New York to mourn her husband. Kassandra had stayed behind to undergo a regimen of medical procedures and therapy before starting her first term at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. But a transmission was set up courtesy of her wealthy Opa Altheim, and so all the students and faculty at Xavier Mansion saw the funeral and heard Father Akwenye's brief eulogy.

"Fridrich's death was tragic. It was preventable. But we must not regard his murder as a waste of a life, for that would suggest we think his life was a waste. And he certainly made sure that was not the case. As St. Paul said in the reading today, we must not mourn like those who have no hope. We have plenty of reason to hope even in our grief. While the murder was an act of evil, it of course could not stop the good that Fridrich had done. Indeed, just as surely as his soul lives on in the care of Almighty God, his example of undiscriminating kindness continues to be lived out by his wife, his children, and numerous friends both here and abroad. And so let us celebrate."

14


	2. Chapter 2

And as a courtesy to some of my readers who have requested this, here's a little translation help.

Geht es Ihnen gut? Ist alles in Ordnung?- Roughly, "Are you all okay? Is everything all right?"

Und was ist mit seinem Auto? Können Sie heimfahren?- "And what is with your car? Can you drive home?"

Wie-? – "How-?"  
Ja, ganz bestimmt.- "Yes, entirely agreed."  
Bist du verrückt?- "Are you crazy?"  
Mein Lieblingsfreund- "my best friend"  
Schlaf gut- "sleep well"


End file.
